The End
by blacksugarbomb
Summary: The end marked with the fall of a pearl.


**Author Note:** This was meant to turn out differently, but I think it isn't bad like this. It was also meant to be heaps longer. Also, apologies for the chronological orders and what not being an absolute mess – I hope it makes sense lol. And I think I did too many historical references in the second half hahahaha!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia or anything related to it.

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It wasn't that he hated the boy. It wasn't that he was a sadistic man. It wasn't that he got any pleasure out of doing this, not at all. But in order to achieve what he had set out to do, he had to do things the hard way otherwise things would go haywire just like America did. He was trying very hard to educate the Asian colony, for him to become a splendid gentleman and crown colony, but it didn't help at all when he had such an unnecessary sense of pride that the boy seemed dead set on defending. Of course, England knew quite well that the colony was very attached to China and like his brother; he has a very strong sense of pride in his culture and ancestry. But that wouldn't do. England had said to China that he was the one fit to raise and educate Hong Kong into a proper colony and the Brit was a man of his words. So it wasn't his fault that he was forced to always scold the Asian boy in a stern voice, intimidate him with glares and in the worst situations, cane him.

Looking up from the cup of Darjeeling that he had been staring into for the past five minutes while he was deep in thought, England's eyes rested on a stunning rose bush in the garden. Planting roses in Hong Kong's garden was a challenge at first, but under his care, the plant grew healthily and now it was the season for blooming. Many of the roses were already unfurling their creased petals, the scent of aromatic roses being carried by the wind and spread all around the garden. However, upon further examination, one would discover a single flower that refused to bloom. England wanted to cut it for aesthetics' sake, but he ended up never doing it.

England smiled forlornly at the closed red bud, "You just don't and won't love, huh?"

A full three years into Hong Kong's stay with England, the distance still remains between the two and England starts to wonder if they'll stay this way for the rest of the decade. As a nation, he knows that Hong Kong's attitude is heavily influenced by his people and truth to be told, his people disliked him. The man he had put in charge of Hong Kong was only acting in the interests of the British Empire, establishing laws and what not in order to use Hong Kong as a port to its full potential and not genuinely treating the colony's people with care. There was a clear line drawn between Hong Kong people and the British and no one would breach that line. The Chinese refused to interact with these uncaring foreigners and the British refused to intermingle with these low class barbarians. It was almost like the differences between the two races would remain for eternity, like the white emptiness that always fills the gap in between black keys on a piano.

Then there was Hong Kong's frown and flinch whenever England invaded his personal space just a little bit. To say the least, it annoyed England. Was he that scary? Was he incapable of replacing China in the colony's heart? In the end, England convinced himself that he needed to try harder; they still had at least a full century together and he'd make that time worthwhile. Hong Kong would grow so attached to him that he would refuse to leave when the time came that China comes to reclaim him! That would teach China not to underestimate the great British Empire!

But over time, that idea got lost somewhere. It was no longer entirely about leeching the colony of all its resources. The governors started to realise that Hong Kong was more than a port, more than just a conventional pathway for trade into China, more than a naval base during the Opium Wars and more than just a tiny insignificant city. Similarly, the people of Hong Kong came to bask in the glory of the British Empire while holding onto their Chinese culture; the legal system was justified and established, work was aplenty, ships protected by the Union Jack dancing in the salty sea breeze and while there was still that inerasable mark of racism, the British were slowly recognising the abilities of the Asian residents, eventually allowing the select few into the legislative council and allowing them to reside on the prestigious landscape of the Peak where the lands were reserved only for the noble British expatriates and government officers.

Just when things seemed to be running smoothly, war breaks out. But not simple a civil war or any normal war for that matter – it was world war.

It wasn't the first time something like this had happened and last time it did, the results were devastating. England knew it was only a matter of time before it was clear that a world war was in full swing. He had spent a night considering his options; the Western front needed his assistance, especially because his home was being threatened directly by German troops and France was simply unreliable in terms of war. However on the other hand, earlier in the year in February, Japan had captured Hainan Island, one of his territories in Asia and that affected his intended strategies significantly. But it didn't worry him – after he dealt with Germany, he'd have time to restore the British Empire's presence in the Asian region. He wasn't worried about Hong Kong either – under the name of the British Empire no one would dare harm him and if Japan tried anything, it would be too close to China for him to feel comfortable. In any case, worst case scenario would be the implementation of the 'Singapore strategy' for the protection of his Far East and Australasian territories plus relying on France to help defend the Mediterranean against Italy and provide assistance in Asia via his colony in Indochina.

With that, the Queen immediately called him back to his home country. A light suitcase in hand, England didn't bother to even pack some of his daily necessities because he had confidence he'd come back. When the young Asian colony asked him why he was leaving, England didn't trouble himself with hiding the truth. He said to the boy who had now grown up to his hip, that he was off to fight a huge war with everyone else. The child asked him if he'd be back soon like one of those trips he took for business. The blonde man simply pat the boy on his head, gave him a grin and replied that no, it would be a little longer than that but he'd be back most definitely.

Hong Kong doesn't say anything but smiled at him for the first time in years. His smile and dark eyes glittered with adoration, respect, pride, trust and faith; young eyes speaking more than his unspoken words.

"Go show them the might of the British Empire."

The course that World War II had taken was a complete different story to what England had plotted. The Germans were a lot tougher than he expected and Japan was wreaking havoc all over Asia, not to mention the island nation had the guts to launch a direct assault at Pearl Harbour. England had to at least praise the Japanese for having such confidence in attaining victory; Japan had hell to pay if America's declaration of war was anything to go by. And while America was still recovering from the attack, England found himself wound up back in Hong Kong much earlier than he expected and for the most despicable reasons too. It was true that he strictly ordered himself to not let his mind wander when he caught wind of how Japan had Hong Kong effectively surrounded in October three years ago, having captured Canton. Several of his officers had already told him that the colony would be hard to defend. China was of course concerned but had his hands full with keeping Japan at bay. England's boss, Churchill, was then pressured into designating troops to the colony to show that he was genuinely interested in defending the outpost. Canada had graciously offered two infantry battalions too.

Judging by the fearful look on Hong Kong's face when the small boy came to meet him at the port, England knew his appearance wasn't all too encouraging. His uniform was in tatters, limbs patched up with bandages and eyes far duller than the original vivacious green. The young boy looked England straight in the eye and said something frightfully mature for his age, "England, you don't have the resources or strength left to spare and defend me. I'll be fine on my own. Please go home where they need you."

It took the British man a few seconds to register the Asian's words, "Are you saying you don't need me here? I'm not going to just abandon you, silly."

The Japanese attack on Hong Kong began less than eight hours after the attack on Pearl Harbour and within the first day of battle, England could feel the despair of defeat wafting in the air along with the strong burnt stench of bodies as Japanese bombers sailed the skies. The only aircrafts they had in possession were lost on the first day with the only three that remained being immediately deployed to Singapore. At the end of the day, Hong Kong came looking for England and it was only then that the blonde saw how many injuries the boy had received throughout the day; not necessarily from physical blows, but the majority were signs of the damage to his people and landscape.

"Hey England, from the very start we've been vastly outnumbered. Please just leave me under the care of Japan. I'm sure it can't be that tough, I'm still his brother after all…" Hong Kong's suggestion was practical but it went against every single one of England's wishes.

"Young man," The older man frowned, "Do not let me hear that nonsense ever again, you hear me?"

He nodded reluctantly. "How can you even go on with this war against such odds?"

The blonde sighed and smiled with a tint of warmth in his voice, "You're giving me the courage."

And yet the rest of the battle was an absolute shame for the British Empire – the defence at Sham Chun River, Gin Drinkers' Line, the East and West Brigades on Hong Kong Island and Wong Ne Chong Gap. It was all a failure. The only success they've had was the swift evacuation and retreat of troops to the Hong Kong Island. It was pathetic; England felt like he had gone back to the time when his brothers always picked on him and 'defeat' was the word he associated himself with most. Despite this, he had rejected all demand for surrender and as a result, the Japanese crossed the harbour and chaos swept across the small island for the remainder of the futile battle.

It was Christmas Eve on the battlefield, night already curtaining the sky. England had refused to let Hong Kong out of the room they shared in the barracks ever since the Japanese had captured his water reservoirs. The boy had grown thin, skin sickly pale, body always cold and injured all over. He was far too fragile to do anything on the frontlines. When his guardian returned, he didn't even turn around or greet him, remaining standing by the window as he stared nostalgically at the familiar outlines of Victoria Harbour.

Hong Kong merely asked a question. "Will we win?"

It was a simple yes or no question without any tricks tagged onto the phrase, however England found himself speechless. For a moment, he stumbled over his words, thinking his responses over. Eventually he just settles with pulling the delicate Asian colony into a feather light embrace, afraid that even the softest touch would crumble the colony into fine dust.

England rested his chin on the youngster's head, noting that the colony now reached his chest in height ever since leaving him for the Western warfront in Europe. He breathed in the faintest whiffs of brackish sea water and the tickling aroma of the bauhinia. When he parted his lips to whisper, he almost couldn't recognise his own miserable voice, "You know better than I do and you still want me to say it?"

The very next morning, the Japanese stormed into the British field hospital at St Stephen's College, torturing and massacring injured soldiers and the medical staff there. Later that afternoon, on a historical 25th December of 1941, along with the Governor of Hong Kong Sir Mark Young as an official representative, the British Empire surrendered. That put an end to the Battle of Hong Kong, the fight lasting a gruelling eighteen days.

It was the first occasion on which a British Crown Colony has surrendered to an invading force and England felt like he had betrayed both himself and Hong Kong.

He had said he would protect Hong Kong but he ended up hurting the colony by fighting a pointless battle. And now as he watched the boy get handed over to the Japanese troops, his heart started to crack and shatter. Hong Kong himself was calm, already prepared for this moment before the battle even commenced. It only made England die a little more inside.

After the torturous experience of being held as Japanese territory for an arduous three years and eight months, Hong Kong had come back to him looking like he was still caught in the immediate aftermath of war. When they first saw each other after nearly four years, England found himself unable to meet the boy's eyes and nor did the Chinese boy look up into his guardian's face. It wasn't later until the two of them were in private did England dare speak to him. He wanted to reach out and touch Hong Kong but was afraid he'd break at his fingertips, so he settled with apologising.

"I'm sorry for being late." England had actually intended to apologise for a whole list of other things but found himself forgetting them all. "It must have been awful for you…"

"I was really scared, but knowing you'd come back for me gave me courage," Hong Kong tilted his head up to look at England and the older nation noticed the tears being held back in the child's eyes. It wasn't the first time he had seen Hong Kong on the verge of crying but the colony was a strong one and not once, did he ever allow the droplets to fall. The parental side of him kicked in and England put his arms around the small fragile frame of Hong Kong, preferring not to speak. "Don't cry for me, England."

The other nation chuckled, "I'm not, you idiot. The great British Empire doesn't cry." But he was. In his heart he was crying for the sufferings of the small colony that had been a result of his incompetence.

Now as he watched the proud Union Jack being lowered down the flag pole half a century later, England is crying in his heart again.

He constantly put on an impenetrable mask as he faced the world, but his brothers and he knew very well that he was everything but strong; he'd be afraid of the smallest things, cry about the most insignificant things and break and snap under the slightest of pressures. However he was a nation and he would not show weakness; although simply put, his mask had already been broken many years ago, his colonies and territories all declaring independence one after another once the World War was over. All of those treasures he had gathered over centuries slipped out of his hands one by one; the first had been America from all those centuries ago and now the last pearl he had held onto dearly was also falling from his hands.

The Pearl of the Orient.

He knew that he was going to lose Hong Kong, the last paragon of his empire. China obviously wanted him back but never wished to start another war against the British but now that their positions were reversed, China cut to the chase. After the last remaining jewel is taken from him, the British Empire would crumble and be no more. No doubt that idea made China overjoyed; to give the British Empire a taste of what it felt like to have the kingdom you've built painstakingly be torn to pieces before your own eyes.

And so the Union Jack no longer flutters in the winds as the flag is folded neatly and handed back to his men. England knows that this is the end.

The end of the road as a superpower and empire.


End file.
